《Director, Machine, Paradox.》Chapter 14 - The Platinum Riot.

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(Self Notes)

[Shadow]

\Mirror/

"speaking"

'thinking'

*action*

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A long blade flickered towards Alan’s throat, jumping back and dodging the thrown blade he stared at the old man, “Who?” he asked. The old man smiled, “I should have acted sooner, perhaps I could have saved that child.” he said quietly. “What is this nonsense, are you betraying me?” Alan growled. The old man brought his hands to his face, fingers digging in and pulled. His face changed, a thin porcelain mask dropping from his face to reveal a middle-aged looking Targual.

Alan spoke darkly “Since you killed my necromancer, I’ll take my losses from your hide.” he drew his axe. “I don’t know who you work for or why you are doing this but I will not allow it!” hissed Stew. “My brother painstakingly put this country back together and I will NOT allow you to trample on his wishes!” Alan’s eyes widened. He had heard the stories of the old queen. It was said she had ran away from her duties during the war and became the wife of one the Targuals. This man could be half brother of the current king. It would also explain the disguise, such Artifacts usually cost greatly.

With this he could cause much greater chaos. He grinned. ‘Such luck!’ though the half prince didn’t look like he’d be giving in too soon. Alan had no idea what kind of opponent he was facing so he remained wary, axe held ready.

Stew was somewhat frustrated his assassination had so easily failed, though he had expected it, it had been sloppy. But he was desperate. Nonetheless, he now had a chance to face the fiend. His black robes billowed out, weapons falling from the folds.

His eyes sharpened and his mind began moving with great speed, combined with the natural dexterity and coordination of a Targual he shot his poisoned repeater crossbow at Alan, dozens of bolts tearing through the air he then hooked it back onto his waist. His hands blurred grabbing the falling throwing knifes and he sent them hurtling after the bolts, and with a final movement he grabbed the last two weapons in each hand. A metallic whip and longsword.

Alan blinked in surprise, the old man was pretty good. He ignored the bolts, instead readied his axe to deflect the thrown blades. His aura would take care of the bolts. A thrumming tornado of red spun around him, instantly disintegrating the bolts, it couldn’t do the same to metal, especially mithril so he deflected which blades he could, a few scored hits, though going no further than his leather armor.

Stew snapped his whip, shining light brightly in Alan’s eyes. “Dirty cheating old man.” he growled irritably, he held his axe overhead, his stance leaving many openings and Stew jumped in close, whip sawing through leather and sword jabbing out lightning quick. A huge gravitational field pulsed from the axe, slamming the old Targual into the ground. Alan smirked, swinging the axe down, covered in red Will.

Stew groaned. But A small cube of white, completely blocked the strike, unmovable. Alan found himself astonished, though it hadn’t been his strongest attack, the fact that it didn’t even budge showed him just how strong of a defense it was. A light shined from Stew’s chest where a silver chain hung. It was Infused with -- he hadn’t wanted to use it - it had been given him to protect their family by Chris - but he couldn’t allow Alan to reach the village. He had sent messages for everyone to evacuate but he had been worried that Alan might have posted watchers at the village. But with Alan otherwise busy with himself the villagers would have the opportunity to escape.

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The cube dissipated though the chain could be used five more times. He couldn’t afford to underestimate his opponent. “My turn.” Alan said smiling smugly. He was different from before, his aura surrounding him had become green and he moved much faster than before. He swung insanely fast, sending gusts of heavy wind everywhere. Stew was having trouble dodging with the air being disrupted so much. He need to disrupt Alan’s rhythm.

His whip snapped overhead, exploding in a star-burst of light, he threw a bag of dust in Alan’s face and a mithril net right after. Finally he felt himself relax somewhat as Alan yelled in pain as the dust got in his face. It wasn’t ordinary dust at all, rather it was filled with neurotoxins it would also cause debilitating pain.

He lashed out with his whip, tearing open the leather and dragged painful lines across Alan’s skin. The mercenary screamed in agony and dropped his axe. Stew smiled. “Surrender and I’ll relieve you of your pain, I have an antidote. I’ll be taking you to the king, he can decide what to do with you.” Alan nodded his head vigorously, pleading. Stew crouched and took his axe away. Then wrestled him from the net. “Don’t try anything or I’ll make this much worse.” the mercenary nodded, rising, his head down he reached for his belt and Stew jabbed his throat in warning "Just thirsty. I want to wash my mouth out." he gulped something down.

Stew’s chain tingled. Alan had shot forward, his fist glowing with Will, swinging down. Stew had no chance to react as the fist connected with his side. He felt his ribs snap like twigs, fragments cutting into his organs. He choked up a mouthful of blood and dropped to his knees, dropping his weapons. Alan stood over him, smiling. “Old man, are you stupid, I’ve killed thousands of people, I’ve been doing this for years. Think I can’t take a little pain? It’s like a finger prick.” he held an empty vial in his hand and scowled “To think you made me use this.” he said, dropping the empty vial. Alan’s wounds were gone as if they had never been, ‘What the hell did he drink!?’ Stew held the chain in his hand, ready to block any attack.

Though he was on the verge of passing out in pain or bleeding to death. He only hoped Alan wouldn’t just walk away, he wouldn’t be able to stop him in his condition. Gritting his teeth he rose painfully to his feet. He breathed deeply and reached into his robes. Alan just stood grinning, “You think any more tricks will work?” Stew withdrew his last resort, a black stone Infused with Shadow’s -- Gray had given it to him, Chris had nagged him nonstop until he did. It was meant to be used with gloves and very steady footing. Though Stew had neither.

But he didn’t hesitate to use it. Hands held forward, the stone crumbled, black Will erupting forth, he sent own his Will with it and guided it towards Alan. It wasn’t quite as powerful as the one used by Shadow but close enough, it blasted forward in a thick black beam, absorbing the Will from the its surroundings as it passed. It crashed with Alan’s figure. Shaking the earth, the energy blasted, portions were deflected, cutting into the area and throwing clumps of gravel and stone into the air.

Alan grimaced as the energy pushed him back constantly, a ordinary looking wooden tower shield was held in a deathgrip in front of him, slowly splintering, it was a disposable Infused defense item his group had been working on, making the most efficient Infused Tools for their purposes, the shield had been a prototype, prepared with someone of the king’s caliber in mind, not some weak Targual. How disappointing.

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He held his axe in his other hand slashing into the beam where he could, he wasn’t worried about damaging it, it was a very high class artifact. Its durability was its strong point. Though he dared not block with it, it was too unwieldy to act as a shield and it wasn’t big enough to block his whole body. Eventually the blast abated and he lumbered forward, his whole body ached, it had been an effort standing against it, even worse, it had drained his Will the whole while. He would need to recover before acting again.

The old man was breathing heavily, blood crusting his robes and face. He was braced against a sturdy looking home which had been slightly uprooted. He wasn’t sure how the Targual had survived. ‘Oh well.’

He dropped the spent shield and strode over.

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Shadow hung over the world, unseen. It was dangerous being outside like this, where any stray Spirit or something else can harm him. But he dared not return to Dream Sirin, not with Mirror acting as she was, though he had calmed somewhat, Self Notes had returned earlier assuring him that Gray and Chris were fine. He wasn’t sure how she could say that with such conviction, maybe she was deluding herself. Either way, he figured he would much rather believe them to be fine than stress over their deaths when it hadn’t even been confirmed.

Though he didn’t know how they could be blocked from their sight or that of an Elder Spirit, only some absolutely overwhelming Will could do that. He had searched for any other Spirits who had any idea. But none could find them, though few of the Spirits were quite coherent.

The only reason the three of them had so easily retained their humanity was their closeness with Chris.

‘Well. Speaking of us three...’ Mirror could be very scary when she wanted to, but it was worse when it was unintentional. She had just recently started having flashbacks again. He didn’t know how THAT had started back up, they were supposed to be over it. So long as they didn’t mention what happened back then Mirror would be completely fine.

In the past they had been active with Chris 24/7, in fact it was surprising he had been able to cope with three voices in his head, constantly talking. Mirror back then was pretty distant however, she was growing into her powers and was finally able to get some freedom, she had left him, like a rebellious teenager. She kept getting herself in danger, she was rash and impulsive. Then she found someone, it had been like a glowing beacon to her, someone with a similar wavelength. Perfect she had thought. The Host she had found had been a terminal patient with only a few years to live.

Mirror had saved that girl’s life, curing her with ease. In return they would ‘share’ the body. She had agreed. Then she went on to live life. She made friends and fell in love.

Then it all fell apart.

The girl’s body started deteriorating. Mirror suffered the effects. Mood swings struck her and destroyed her relationships. The girl ended back in hospital, blaming Mirror for it all. Like a dream, Mirror ended up back where she started, only with a broken heart.

Afterwards, Chris found her and welcomed her back. They had all tried so hard to comfort her, and soon after many years she recovered.

He didn’t dare allow himself to even THINK it could be Little Notes. But who else could have triggered her? And why now? He sighed.

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Self Notes felt horrible. A sick oily feeling. Guilt.

She had done as ordered. Now she could have time to herself again, she could go back to her usual self. But she couldn’t shake the guilt. Somehow, Mirror had been onto her. But she couldn’t allow her to find out, so she triggered her - hoping Mirror would forget - so her secret would be safe.

This was all for Christopher’s good after all.

This all had to happen, and in fact, it already had.

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I bit into the skewers with glee. ‘Best.’ I paused for a moment as the whole market went silent. I frown looking around, everyone was staring at the pile of platinum marks I get left on the counter. The shopkeeper practically dove into them grabbing handfuls and shoveling them into his pockets. Throngs of people charged forwards, pushing others out of the way and trampling anyone they saw. I looked at them in astonishment. It was a literal riot.

‘It wasn’t THAT much money was it...?’

Priscilla meanwhile glared at me “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!” I held my hands up in surrender. “I have no idea. Why the fuck are they going nuts!?” she blinked “Didn’t you know? Damn. Okay look. Platinum is extremely expensive here and you just dropped enough to buy a kingdom. Go figure. Anyway I suppose I should make an example...” she trailed off as a group of beefy men charged at us demanding cash. “No need. Sirs! I am going to have to ask you to stop!” I said hold my palm out. They didn’t heed me, so I slapped the biggest one in front. Though I held back, it still ended up knocking him out. He was sent flying back like a rag doll, slamming into the crowd and bowling people over. “STRIKE ONE!” I yelled. Gray who had stood quietly the entire time began grabbing handfuls of snacks from the stalls. I glare at him “You better save some for me!” he laughs “Deal with it. Why don’t you stick with what you know. I’m a professional thief.” I snort in derision “Professional? Sure, sure.”

I was about to hit the other muscle heads, but another group of batshit people came stampeding through. Priscilla stepped past me, wings spreading out overhead, those nearby stared in awe. Swinging the wings mightily she takes to the air, knocking people over. Waves of wind clash with the crowds and she draws everyone’s attention shouting down with a voice louder and deeper than any human “BASTARDS! Settle down! Is this how the Great Jareklai Empire behaves? You are in the presence of the Ambassador of the Lost Isles. Show some respect!” everyone stopped, looking between me and Gray.

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It was all resolved in the end. The coins were taken from everyone and returned to me, but I decided to donate them to the town. I didn’t really need the money. Afterwards the town guards showed up, though a little late. Nobody died, but the city’s infirmary was filled to the brim. The story of the event was spread by the market people to the rest of the city becoming increasingly exaggerated. It became known as the Trudid Platinum Riot.

Priscilla had then sent us to an inn. We were given free stay, partly because of the huge donation. Not to mention Priscilla designated me as an Ambassador. Which was very bad. Eventually the news would get to the rest of the Empire and they would hunt me down. But something still bothered me, I couldn’t leave yet.

I left my room in the inn and knocked on the door of Gray’s room. “What the hell do you want?” he shouted through the door. I scowled “I was thinking of investigating the source of our cut connection. But if you don’t want to come...” “Fine, fine!” after five minutes of shuffling he scrambled through. I peered over his shoulders into the room. It was a mess. Mostly filled with empty bowls and plates. He had gorged, eating almost all the food he had snatched earlier. We left, waving to the inn keeper. I recognized a few bruised faces on the street and began laughing. Gray trailed behind, eyes on any food related buildings. I was surprised he hadn’t gotten fat. His hunger had ramped way up recently.

The sky had been orangified. It was evening. Priscilla stood against a wall near the town hall and people avoided her, being painfully careful. She looked up smiling “Sup. Aren’t you guys going to sleep?” she asked. Gray shrugged “What about you? Hanging around looking suspicious.” he said, “I’m thinking.” she murmured. I smiled broadly “Don’t hurt yourself.” ‘Oh Yeeeaaahhh!!!’ Gray rolled his eyes. “Shoosh. So what do you fleshies want?” she asked “I really need to ask, is that how half dragons really talk?” I asked raising my eyebrows. Gray spoke up ignoring my annoyed huff “We wanna see that cave of yours.” she grimaced “I’m not sure I have the authority. Though my family does own this town, we are still vassals of the Empire and our superiors have closed it off. Sorry fleshies.” “Why didn’t you tell us to begin with?” he asked scowling.

She opened her mouth to reply before closing it again, staring behind us.

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Thanks for reading, if you can point out any inconsistencies or typos I would appreciate it.

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